Lyra lifted the bow in her left hand and placed the arrow against the string. She pulled back on the arrow, releasing the dart at speed. The arrow shot through the air and bypassed the trunk of a tree that stood in the distance. She tutted and swung the bow around in her hand.
‘I told you before, Missy, you move your arm when you release, so you gots to either aim to the right a bit or keep your arm still, one or the other,’ Harlon explained patiently, whilst handing her another arrow. ‘And don’t be swinging that bow, look it.’ He took hold of her shoulder and lowered her arm to the left. ‘Lower it, don’t swing it. Now, again.’ Lyra huffed and raised the bow again, deliberately in an exaggerated version of Harlon’s demonstration on lowering it. The old man ignored her mood and nodded for her to proceed.
Again, she pulled the arrow back on the string and released. The arrow flew past the tree, just scraping the bark. ‘Better?’ Lyra snapped.
‘You got the right idea, but you gots to aim for the mark. It’s no good being near the mark, all that business of hitting part of the board ain’t no good. You gots to hit the mark dead on.’ Harlon handed her another arrow, ‘Now,’ he started, shifting her arm to the right, ‘you gots to compensate for moving.’ Lyra went to release, but the old man’s fingers caught her, ‘Don’t be rushing, you wanna see how far off you are so you can move your arm that way.’ Lyra sighed stroppily, pulled back the string and released. ‘Now you see how off you are,’ Harlon stated as the arrow disappeared into the distance, ‘Move your arm that far. Try again.’
Lyra stared at the target; a minute slit Harlon had chipped into the bark. She pulled back the string again and moved her arm to the right before releasing. The arrow landed perfectly on the marked spot. ‘I did it,’ Lyra chirped.
‘Great, now you do it twenty more times, then we try moving targets.’ Lyra scowled, defeated, as Harlon removed the arrow from the tree. ‘Twenty more times, Missy.’ Harlon collected a handful of arrows from his own quiver and dropped them into the quiver on her back, ‘And you pull them this time, I can’t be following you ‘round handing you arrows, can I?’ Lyra guessed that Harlon was making a statement as opposed to asking a question and opted not to answer.
‘He’s angry with me,’ Lyra muttered, pulling an arrow from her quiver.
‘The boy?’ Harlon asked, ‘I told you, Missy, you obey.’ Lyra released the arrow, hitting the target perfectly.
‘I did.’ She loaded up another arrow, as Harlon set about fetching the previous shot.
‘Boy’s got some temper, don’t he?’ Harlon added, whilst watching her aim. ‘Don’t forget to compensate,’ he added.
‘I know why he’s angry with me.’ Another arrow hit the target. ‘I asked to see him.’ Lyra hesitated and turned to look at the old man.
‘Talk all you want, Missy, but keep practising.’ Lyra continued to shoot at the mark. Once she returned her focus to her practice the old man continued speaking, ‘Guess he don’t want you hating him, is all.’
‘I’ve seen him kill; don’t you think if I was going to hate him that would be the cause?’ Lyra asked, perplexed.
‘You accepted him for what he is, you gave yourself to him,’ Harlon explained, ‘Only person ever close to him, he figures you see his face, well then, that’s it.’ Lyra went to lower her bow, ‘Good arm work, Missy, but you need to keep going.’ Another arrow hit the mark and Harlon hurriedly retrieved it.
‘I didn’t really have much choice, though, did I?’ Lyra barked. ‘No choice at all, do or die, not really a choice.’ Harlon chuckled,
‘Hate it, do you?’
‘Hate what?’ the woman replied, shooting a succession of arrows that landed so precisely that a mass was formed in the bark. Harlon sauntered over, muttering,
‘You know well what.’ He pulled the arrows from the tree indignantly, ‘Making like you don’t know.’
Lyra blushed with embarrassment,
‘That’s different.’ Harlon chuckled as Lyra released another succession of arrows.
‘Different? I think it’s all about the same, don’t you?’ Harlon scoffed, ‘I seen this, I know what it is, strong, powerful hunter, that’s your animal instincts, Missy. Kickin’ in. All the morals in the world won’t make no difference to those urges.’ Lyra looked thoughtfully at Harlon,
‘It doesn’t change the fact that he is angry with me. I don’t want to make him angry!’
‘Still frightened of him, ain’t ya?’ Harlon asked knowingly.
‘Of course, I am,’ Lyra replied whilst releasing more arrows. ‘But,’ she flushed again, ‘But, I…’
‘Need him?’ Harlon queried as he wandered back to the tree trunk. ‘Want him?’ Lyra gulped. ‘You can tell Old Harlon, Old Harlon looks after you.’
‘You look after him too!’ Lyra observed, deliberately taking more shots before Harlon had managed to return the last load.
‘Looks after both of you,’ Harlon muttered, returning to the tree with a huff. ‘You goin’ answerin’?’
‘Answering?’ Lyra said, lowering the bow, ‘That’s more than twenty hits.’
‘I throw targets now, you hit. Focus beyond the target, focus beyond the direction, and aim into the distance.’ Harlon reloaded the woman’s quiver and pointed in the direction of his throw. ‘That way!’ he shouted, releasing a moving target that he had clearly carved from wood. Lyra followed it visually and stealthily released an arrow, missing the shot.
‘You still gots to compensate,’ Harlon snapped, ‘Again!’ He released a second target, and with her improved vision Lyra followed it, shifted her arm and released, hitting the central mark. ‘He’s a predator, Missy, and you want him, is that it?’ Harlon asked slyly. Lyra lowered her bow,
‘No, no, that’s not it. I mean, yes, I do, but that’s not it.’ The old man nodded wisely.
‘You can’t get your head round it, can ya, Missy?’ Lyra shook her head, and Harlon noted a look of sadness within her profoundly large, dark eyes. As a distraction he threw another target, and she shot it with efficiency, but the distraction failed and Lyra continued,
‘I know what he is, and what he does. He’s an animal, he’s violent, sadistic. He’s hurt me.’ She waited to see if the old man reacted, but he did not.
Before drawing another arrow, Lyra rubbed her hand across her head as if scratching with the pads of her fingers.
‘Again,’ Harlon insisted, releasing another target. Lyra drew and hit before lowering her bow. ‘Are you gonna tell Old Harlon what you really wants to say?’ Harlon asked.
‘There was no life before, not now. I can’t see it, it’s like a dream I once had,’ Lyra mumbled, half to Harlon, half to herself.
‘That’s because you’re becoming fully alive.’ The old man released another target and waited for his apprentice to shoot it down. ‘The boy ain’t human, and soon you won’t be, not anymore.’
‘If he decides to continue! What if I anger him and he takes my life?’ Lyra’s eyes filled with sadness.
‘Are you sad ‘bout death?’ Harlon asked, ‘Don’t think that’s what you sad about, is it, Missy?’ Lyra shook her head.
‘I thought he was going to kill me, he made me feel so lost, he wanted me to die, and in that instant, I guess I was dead.’ Harlon smiled and put his arm around the woman, sensing a deep emptiness within her. ‘So, I told him just to end it because…’
‘Because at that moment he made sure that you would offer your life to him? Ain’t that right?’ Harlon nodded, giving her a squeeze. ‘Still don’t get it, do ya, Missy? He chose you, but Immortalis, well, see, they have rules for things to work the way they need to, and you had to give yourself to him, otherwise the rest don’t work.’
‘Well then, I never chose,’ Lyra argued.
‘You chose, you choose every time he touches you and you don’t stop him. You chose when you knew you would rather die than live without him.’ Harlon sniffed and decided to venture further, ‘And you chose when you realised that you were in love with him.’
Lyra tilted her chin and looked at the old man,
‘I never said that,’ she stated assertively.
‘Don’t have to say it, Missy, don’t have to read ya to know it a neither.’ Lyra’s eyes welled with water, but she fought back the tears,
‘How can I? How can I love some emotionless, murderous thing?’ Harlon placed a hand on each of her shoulders,
‘Remember, Missy, that boy had people hatin’ on him before he was what he is. He don’t want you to see his face because he thinks you will hate him too, and talking ‘bout him like that don’t help none.’
‘He left last night and never came back,’ Lyra muttered.
‘He’s scared, Missy, he’s angry and scared. He knows you gonna see him some time and then he don’t know.’
‘Is he that bad to see?’ Lyra asked.
Harlon gestured towards the tree,
‘We gonna try something else now.’ Lyra tried to search his face for an answer to her question, but he gave nothing away. ‘You climb up the tree and drop down from the top.’ Lyra cast her gaze up the magnanimous trunk. The branches seemed firm and plenty, but the drop was phenomenal.
‘I can’t jump out of there!’ she stated, ‘No way.’
‘You can, you drop, you bend at the knee when you land. Easy enough,’ Harlon retorted.
‘Easy enough? You do it then!’ Lyra crossed her arms in defiance.
‘Old Harlon don’t go climbing no trees, not the same as you!’ The old man pointed, ‘Climb up, drop down.’
‘I’m not the same as Kane!’ Lyra snapped, ‘Three times, Kane said. I’m not ready.’
‘You’re ready for this. Old Harlon been about enough to know.’ Lyra took a deep breath and ran towards the tree.
Her arms caught the first branch, and she swung upwards from branch to branch with ease until she reached the top. The view over the forest and lake made her gasp; she had not realised how magnificent her chosen paradise appeared. It was her home; the home that she had yearned for, and the home that she had come to. She scanned the forest hoping to see Kane, but he was nowhere to be found.
‘Now, take the nearest branch and hang under it.’ Lyra obeyed with little difficulty. ‘Now drop!’ Harlon shouted. The woman took another breath and released. Her senses attuned instantly to the speed of the fall; she adjusted her body accordingly, bent her knees and landed like a warrior.
‘You’re a natural,’ Harlon observed, clapping. Lyra smiled, but Harlon still sensed the sadness within her. ‘Don’t be worrying, Missy. It’s all a lot to take in, but this is your world now and you already chose it, so you gots to accept that now, ain’t ya?’ Lyra pursed her lips and nodded. ‘How about you show Old Harlon how you swim?’
‘I’m a good swimmer,’ Lyra stated eagerly.
‘You gonna be a better swimmer now,’ Harlon assured, signalling for her to follow him to the lake.
The water did not feel cold, not remotely. Her body coped with the change of temperature and Lyra did not even catch her breath when she first stepped in.
‘You’re feelin’ the difference straight away, ain’t ya?’ the old man observed, ‘You can see better and you can go under longer and you can stay down easier.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Lyra asked from the shallows.
‘I want you to go under and come up at the raft!’ Lyra looked at the distance between herself and the old wooden platform and frowned.
‘It’s too far!’ she retorted, ‘I’ll need to come up.’
‘Now, Missy, if you’ve learned anything today, it’s that you can do things that you couldn’t before.’ Harlon waved his hand in a diving motion, ‘Under and up before Kane gets here!’
